


Falling

by Aoi_Sensei



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Child Abuse, M/M, Past Abuse, Self-Reflection, Suicide Attempt, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:58:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13931358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoi_Sensei/pseuds/Aoi_Sensei
Summary: Struggling to figure out what content their new album should consist of, Ruki reflects on his past and brings forth his buried feelings in order to craft their next PV. Child abuse, homelessness, homosexuality, eating disorders, and more have plagued his mind for so long that it feels like he has been dying for years. He just needs to fall one more time.





	1. Phase One

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some of my own hard times I wanted to write a story about Ruki's past. This is a fictional story pieced together by real life events he went through and stated in interviews. Please enjoy!

It had to be bigger and better than any song before if it was going to sell. They’re talking global mass scale, people lining up ready to throw their money at them like desperate whores. Drinking in their music like it was alcohol. This was a lot of pressure that one man took upon himself. How could he share it with the other four members? This was something he had gotten them into. It was his idea to preform at the level they did and instead of going up they were going sideways into a whole new dimension.

Scrapping yet another paper, balling its offensive material up so it wouldn’t stain his eyes with its ink, Ruki grit his teeth. It was time for another cigarette even though the last one still burned on his tongue. The clock on the website was counting down. The red and black representing how he felt as his muscles tensed at the thought. Nauseating. For he was but a man and the industry expected him to be an incubus. Sucking dry the pockets of his fans was all the machine desired.

Stepping out from the stale apartment air into the nip of winter Ruki fished out a crumpled golden pack. He loathed this time of year since it always brought sour memories of a time not so long ago. He was in his thirties now but sometimes he still felt like that scared teenager. His lungs filled with the musky smoke before breathing it out again. Ruki’s dark eyes followed the cloud as it slowly drifted away.

When did he start smoking? Fourteen maybe. That was when things at home started getting really bad. When his brother would leave for days, out fucking some random chick. His parents knew, how could they not? It wasn’t as if Touma was secretive with his loud music and sticky magazines shoved between his mattress and box-spring. Nor did it help his case that the few friends he had were always out smoking weed. They weren’t even close to begin with and it didn’t take young little Ruki long to figure out that when Touma was gone he was probably balls deep in some freshman girl, the sick fuck.

In Japan… at that time at least… no first born son could do any wrong. His mother wringing her hands worriedly as she paced the kitchen didn’t have the strength to go against suburban social norms that plagued their daily lives. A respectable family with a fucked up heir. Their whole family might as well just die, burn to hell in a house fire if the information got out.

This was when Ruki first started looking up to his brother. He was going to be the head of the family. He was cool, strong, and seemingly did whatever he wanted. Ruki was never interested in sex but he was very curious about the things he was not allowed to do as children so often were. “Don’t go into Touma’s room.” Don’t see the disgrace. Don’t acknowledge it. It doesn’t exist as long as you don’t open his door.

But he did. When no one else was home of course. His small feet silently sliding against the floor as his eager eyes took in the posters plastered on every inch of Touma’s walls. The Clash, Sex Pistols, X Japan… Some posters were more obscene than others. So bright and filled with words that popped out at him. It was only when he found the CD to match the big red angry print that he swiped it and ran into his room to listen in peace.

It’s funny how one small thing can cause such a huge domino effect. Ruki often wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn’t heard that music. Would he have finished school with black hair and a plastic smile? Would he have became a doctor or a lawyer? Would he settle down with a wife while fucking his male intern while she took care of their children?

The thought made him snort as he snubbed the cigarette out. No matter what... he feels fucked. Perhaps he was born in the wrong country or even during the wrong time period. However one thing was clear, he was never meant to be with that family. His stealing didn’t end there. As the weeks went on he took more and more CDs, consuming them with his eager ears as he read manga he borrowed from a kid in his class.

So wholesome that dear child was. Pure. Untouched by the evils of society. He wasn’t interested in sex at that age but rather he just wanted to remember naked bodies. Tracing taut muscles and soft breasts with his eyes before hiding it in the same place he got it from Touma’s room, under his mattress. To him it was a form of art. A human being in their natural state. Oh how blissfully unaware that poor child was. It never occurred to him that when his mother found it she would have slapped him the way she did. Or that his father would beat him with his bare hands.

That’s right… That’s how he started smoking. He had taken on Touma’s interests and therefore he was the monster tearing apart their family. At the tender age of fourteen his aura started to darken by the pollution surrounding him. His tears only dried when the other good-for-nothing children took him under their wing and helped him learn that toxicity in his lungs was better than an anti-anxiety pill.

Every time he smoked it took him back to that first day when circumstances finally consumed him. He was no longer Matsumoo Takanori, proper son of a hard working man and house wife. He was no longer the boy who went to cram school so he could please his teachers. He was soiled. Rotten. A fruit that fell too far from the tree. He needed a new identity. During a fit with tears streaming down his red cheeks and quivering lips hooked between his fangs Ruki bleached his hair until strands were falling out of his skull and his blackness rusted over with blood created by a chemical concoction.

Marching home with bright pink hair he was prepared to fight with his parents. Screaming into the void. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that this child had been scorned with hands and abuses just because of his brother. Ruki never had any bad intentions, he just so happened to have been far too curious for the wrong reasons. Between the snuff films showcasing real deaths and the paint he had huffed a few times a week he began to tear way the things that made Takanori Takanori. He became the monster his parents had painted him as. Frankenstein's own bastard.

Rebellion was never in the back of Ruki’s mind. Rather a cry of help. A beg. A plea. Look at what you’re doing to me. Stop it. You’re killing me. And they were. The night Takanori died was the first night his father kicked him out of the house into the falling snow. Sleeping on the road did something to him that day. A number on his head where something finally snapped. The hate in his father’s eyes and his mother’s wails haunting him. What was so bad about being different? About having beautiful hair and beautiful music? That was all he wanted then. A world where he could have any hair color he desired and could scream as loud as he wanted.

The second night Takanori died was when he was fifteen. Touma’s best friend came over for a few days while Ruki’s father was away on business. He never had anything to do with Touma and his friends, hardly even spoke to them considering the age difference. But that man his brother brought home had other ideas. He didn’t even remember how it happened. Like a black and white film with a corrupted slide. All he could remember was lips and skin on his, and hotness pooling in places he should have never been touched. But he loved it, begged for it like the bitch life made of him.

His first orgasm was with a man, and so was the second, though it was with a different partner. He suddenly realized why his brother was gone all the time. Men were so beautiful with their rough hands and hard cocks. Their trembling chests when you did something they liked. He had no desire for women. Their breasts did nothing to please him and the few times one of Touma’s many girlfriend’s tried to get a piece of him his cock wouldn’t even twitch in their manicured fingers.

Hell broke loose when their father found out what he had been doing. His neighbor’s older brother had been fucking his ass when their mother walked in and at that moment Ruki could feel the very fabric of reality shatter and cut him. That night anxiety overwhelmed Ruki until it finally arrived. A boot to his face crushing his jaw, screams from his mother as blood pooled on the floor. Another kick breaking his ribs, a hard one to his groin to make sure Ruki would never carry on the family’s name.

It was a huge mistake grounding him for his sins. His father couldn’t even look at him, his mother no longer smiled. Ruki was imprisoned in his house, terrified of what would become of him. His father believed all gays should die. His fragile heart was no more, the boy had no energy to cry. Who could he beg for happiness? No god loved him the way the devil did. Orange flashed into his field of vision and he knew then what he had to do. All he wanted was acceptance. If his father didn’t like him alive then maybe he would dead. Heaving himself up with a pinch from his wounds, Ruki cupped the bottle of prescribed pain killers in his hands. He would starve tonight as he had the past few so no one would notice. No one would find him until it was too late.

Wiping the tears from his face, Ruki stepped back inside. What brought on those thoughts so forbidden and tucked away in his mind? The dust didn’t need to be blown off, so why… He couldn’t take it. It felt too real. The pills sliding down his throat before destroying it with acidic vomit. The seizures that ensued followed by his mother walking in to see what all the noise was about. White filled the rest of that recollection. White walls, white floors, white gown.

“Hey.” He answered his phone, another fresh paper ready to be stained with sweat and fears sat before him. “I’ve been thinking about it and I don’t think that song will work out in the end… But I think I have something better.” He paused, listening to the breathing on the other end. “Reita… remember when we first met?”

“Yeah.” He could hear the smile in his voice. Never happy but sad. Devastated at the world for such a cruel misdoing. “I remember when Kou and I took you home after… Why?”

“I think I have an idea.”


	2. The Concept of Togetherness.

Get out of bed… Just sit up and push the blankets off.... “I can’t.” Ruki spoke to himself. It seemed unbearable. Why was here here again? Doing this? No one helped him. No one ever pitched ideas they could actually use, and here they were, struggling to meet the deadline AGAIN with everyone turning their eyes on him. Ruki fix this, Ruki write that… It was unbearable.

He should quit. He has considered that notion many times these past few years, but now it seemed more tempting than ever. He should quit and work only on his fashion. These days were driving him crazy, cooped up in his hole and in his head. Not even Reita’s warm sweaty body against his could soothe his demons anymore.

Ruki was depressed. He couldn’t get up. He couldn’t eat properly and if he did he would eat too much. He couldn’t even brush his teeth. How embarrassing was it for him that fans pointed it out? “How could you not brush your teeth?” I don’t know…. I just can’t – was his mental reply. He brushed his teeth before each performance and before Reita came over, wasn’t that good enough? He liked to pretend it was for the sake of his own sanity.

Everything takes too much energy. Get out of bed; wash your body; wash your hair; dry your hair; maybe brush your teeth; get dressed; make breakfast; find your mask; find your socks; put your shoes on; find your sunglasses: walk out and lock your apartment; walk down the stairs; walk back because you forgot your wallet; unlock door; find wallet; and repeat.

He couldn’t do it today. He couldn't leave for the studio only to realize they had no content and the digits on the countdown went from double to single numbers. It would be so much easier for Ruki to focus his expertise to Nil Due Nil Un. Easier for him to tell everyone to fuck the hell off and leave him alone. Truth be told he wasn’t enjoying music anymore. He couldn’t even listen to it for gods sake. Ruki felt burnt out. Fried. His ideas were exhausted and his mind worked like a 1995 minivan in a three foot deep mud pit.

Somehow he managed, only after the manager called him four times and Reita called him once. “I shouldn’t have to call you every day.” The LINE message lit up his phone. “Get serious about this, we need another world tour or we’re fucked.” Ruki clenched his jaw. It was so easy for Reita to say that when all he did was add bass to songs he and Uruha already created and established.

How many more concerts could he sing his throat raw? How many more screaming teenage girls were going to try and follow him home? He couldn’t even go out to fuck, his private life always ended up on Tanuki in an instant. Ruki was a person. A human being. He didn’t belong to anyone. At least… that’s what he wanted to believe. But he was a dog. A bitch. The company owned him. The fans owned him. He has chains around his his heart, keeping it securely locked. There wasn’t even any love in his and Reita’s relationship, even if he wished there was. The truth was… he was alone.

Ruki went through the motions of the day. Clean your body, feed your body, clothe your body. Stepping out into the bright sun with his large shades on he headed to the office. Another day in paradise. “Did you get anything done?” “What are the new lyrics?” “Should I do the guitar in this one?” “Will these be done in time for recording?”

“Let’s work on something else.” Ruki proposed as he finally sat down, a coffee in hand. Of course he was blasted with questions as soon as he walked in the door. Wasn’t Kai supposed to be the leader? Kai’s mouth opened and closed a few more times before he reluctantly agreed. “Video concepts?  
  
“Everything.” The singer breathed. “I want our whole history. I want prostitution. I want stalkers. I want blood. I want drugs and alcohol. I want the cars we slept in to go over a fucking cliff and I want to smile about it.” Maybe the world shouldn’t know about everything they’ve been through… but now it didn’t matter. Aoi’s cocaine addiction. Uruha’s and Ao’s alcohol addiction. Reita’s and Ruki’s eating disorders. Ruki’s and Kai’s sex addiction. Most of which they all managed to conquer. Except maybe Uruha and his alcoholism. He figured it was time to rip the band-aid clean off and let the wound get some fresh air.

Of course there was more. The time Ruki had to sell his body in the industry to get their band funded, or even the dark days when The GazettE had two tour managers. Every one of those things created a scar in their hearts and on their brand. They preached to their fans as if they were proud of it. They worked hard, that was true, but there was nothing to be proud of. There was mental illness, and addiction and vices normal people couldn’t even consider. What Ruki did to keep their band afloat would bring him straight to hell and that was his reality. The music industry was a black hole filled with drugs, pedophilia, and black mail.

Ruki slapped righteous papers onto the table for all to see. Their savior was written, brought to life by his words like a black magic tulpa. “This is the final draft of Falling.” It was the only thing he managed to write. The others gave him knowing looks and his stomach dropped. Almost instantly Ruki felt the urge to light a cigarette. They should be happy that it was even finished in the first place.

It would be so easy to quit. To give up. To sleep before three in the morning, to lay in bed until noon. Was music still his dream? Did it even make him happy anymore? At the ripe age of thirty six did he have it in his heart to be a rebellious youth? To keep dying his hear blonde? To cake makeup on his now aging and exhausted features? Drawing was a love of his ever since he was a child, now it was a business. It could support him and only him. He didn’t need to be responsible for four other men and thousands of fans. He could quit… He really could.

“Do you have a fucking problem?” The vocalist finally growled. “I don’t see anyone else coming up with shit. Especially you, Uruha. I’m disappointed.” Uruha turned away, suddenly finding a stain on the floor to be more interesting than the band meeting. It was clear he was hungover but that was nothing new. “I’m at my wits end. If none of you help me I’m not going to try anymore.”

“Ru...” Reita spoke softly, circling his arms around Ruki’s tiny body in an attempt to calm him down. The bassist made a surprised noise as he was promptly shoved away. That was it. There was no going back now. The hurricane was brewing and the storm has yet to arrive. If Reita played his cards right he knew it would fizzle out, but he had to be careful. “You’re right.” He admitted. “We’re putting all this pressure on you when we shouldn’t.”

“I don’t think we can create any new sounds. We don’t have it in us.” Aoi added, knowing he was walked on a dangerous line. Not that he cared, considering he was left out so often and considered quitting more than the others, but he did love The GazettE. That was something Ruki felt like he couldn’t own up to anymore. “Why don’t we revisit our old sounds? So many fans complained about Dogma saying it didn’t sound like us.”

“It sounded better.” Ruki mumbled under his breath.

“You’re right, I agree.” Aoi nodded. “But going back to our roots will be easier.”

“I can still keep the heavy bass.” Reita figured. “We can keep the metal guitar, I think that was good. But the style should mirror that of our past styles.”

Ruki did want the past mirrored. He had been thinking about it so much. It all made sense, especially when Falling was written about his own personal trauma. Dim, Division, Malformed Box… He could channel these energies again, the energies dormant inside of him. “Then I think it’s settled. Let’s finish the Falling image, film the video, and work on the rest.”A part of him relaxed as he sank back into the chair, taking a sip of his semi-forgotten coffee. It was painful to relive all of these experiences, but they could get through it. They always did.


End file.
